


Previous Wounds

by Winteriscomingforsteve



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Basically h/c, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pretty much fluff and hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 11:45:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14080212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winteriscomingforsteve/pseuds/Winteriscomingforsteve
Summary: Everett’s bullet wound still aches sometimes. T’Challa helps.





	Previous Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Hello y’all! I’ve had a few short ideas for Everett Ross/T’Challa having to do with h/c and some other fluffy things so I decided to finally write them! Thank you for reading in advance and please do let me know if you have any prompts or general ideas that you would like me to write about. Thanks xx

The bullet wound still hurts; there is a constant never ending ache where the bullet pierced his skin and lodged itself in his spine. Everett likes to pretend it is not a bother, but T’Challa can read the pain in the usually unmoving lines of Everett’s face.

T’Challa visits Everett in his office in the afternoon. He is sick of his own space; he wants to get away from reading and signing political documents.

He finds Everett hunched over his work, one hand gripped tensly around a pen and his face a hard line of focus.

“Everett, love?” T’Challa asks as he patters over to the desk. Everett looks up with a pained grin and stands with a very visible wince.

“T’Challa.” Is all Everett says as he hobbles out from behind his desk and stumbles into T’Challa’s warm embrace. He rests his forehead against T’Challa’s forhead and sighs softly. T’Challa furrows his brow and brings a hand up to stroke at the soft back of Everett’s neck.

“You’re in pain.” T’Challa says after a long minute. He pulls Everett’s shoulders back to get a look at his face.

“I’m — T’Challa I’m alright.” Everett’s words are unsure, his voice wavering and cheeks developing a rosy color. T’Challa just shakes his head.

“Come here.” T’Challa lets go of Everett’s shoulders and extends his hand. Everett takes it with no hesitation.

T’Challa leads Everett to his chamber, soon to be _their_ chamber. He shuts the doors softly behind them.

“Take your shirt off.” Everett turns his back to T’Challa and pulls his black top over his head. The red-colored scar over his spine is stark compared to the rest of his skin. Everett turns to T’Challa for instructions, his eyes and posture both weary. T’Challa moves to him and captures Everett’s lips in a gentle kiss, his hands clasping at the warm skin on Everett’s sides.

“You can get on the bed.” T’Challa goes to the closet to retrieve a small bottle of massage oil and comes back to find Everett laid on his stomach on the bed.

T’Challa drips some oil onto his hands and straddles Everett’s waist. “Let me make the pain go away.”

T’Challa works the muscles of Everett’s back with practiced hands. He is firm, but gentle at he same time, his fingers pushing into the tight back muscles, forcing them to relax. He can feel the tension as it escapes from Everett’s overworked body.

Everett sighs softly, eyes barely shut. T’Challa watches the relief as it spreads over his features. Everett is always beautiful, but the relaxation carved into his face is a fucking _vision._

Minutes, maybe hours pass. T’Challa’s works the strain and pain from Everett’s body and begins to feel his own eyes drifting closed as he lightly massages Everett’s skin.

He carefully rolls over so he is laying next to Everett’s mostly limp form.

“Where you goin’?” A muffled sigh emerges from Everett where his head faces away from T’Challa who giggles slightly as he looks up with hazy eyes at the ceiling.

“I think we could both go for a midday sleep?” T’Challa suggests as he moves onto his side to face Everett. Everett shifts his own body backwards a little, looking over his shoulder. T’Challa takes the cue and comes as close as he can to mold his body over Everett’s back. He tosses an arm over Everett’s chest and pulls him closer. T’Challa thinks he maybe will never let Everett get any farther away from him than this  

“Thank you, babe.” Everett whispers after a long minute of confortable silence. T’Challa kisses the top of his head.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for reading! Hopefully you enjoyed this! Again, let me know if you have any ideas for me to write about xx


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